Between Books and Lovers

Rain drizzled against the windows of La Table du Poète as Anna restocked the shelves with fresh copies of Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, and Ophelia. The bell above the door chimed, and a man stepped inside. He closed his wet umbrella and left it beside the door before slowly scanning the shelves. He wore a beige trench coat over a dark sweater, simple trousers, and damp leather boots. A dark scarf was wrapped neatly around his neck. Anna watched him for a moment. He looked like someone who belonged in a novel. Unfortunately, she was beginning to suspect he might be the kind of character she would hate. He wandered through the shelves for several minutes, picking up one book and putting it down before moving to another. Finally, Anna stepped out from behind the counter. “I see you're having trouble making a choice, sir.” The man turned. In his right hand was a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “Ah, yes.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “I'm looking for a good romance novel. Could you recommend one?” “Certainly.” Anna glanced at the book in his hand. “What about Pride and Prejudice?” “I've read it a million times.” His eyes met hers. “And you? What's your go-to novel?” “Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.” “Americanah?” “Yes. She's a Nigerian writer.” “Nigeria? Tsk, tsk. I don't really see the need for such books. I don't understand their culture.” Anna stared at him. There were several things she could have said. Instead, she calmly took the book from his hand. “I'm sure you don't.” She wiped the cover with her sleeve and returned it to the shelf. The man's eyebrow lifted. “I'll take Hamlet.” “Of course.” Anna walked back to the counter. As she rang him up, she kept her expression perfectly polite. Inside, however, she was screaming. What a total douchebag. He paid, gave her a brief nod, and walked out into the rain. Anna watched him cross the street. Then she noticed the umbrella. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” She grabbed it and hurried outside. “Sir! Excuse me!” The traffic roared between them. Anna stood beneath the drizzle, umbrella in hand, watching him disappear into the crowd. “Well, I tried.” She returned inside and placed the umbrella beside the counter. “Let's keep it here,” Lizzy suggested. “He might come back.” “I pray he doesn't.” David, who was wiping down one of the tables, glanced toward the window. “He was kind of fine, though.” Lizzy nodded enthusiastically. “Very fine.” Anna gave them both a look. “Can you two please concentrate on your work? He's not the one paying you.” Lizzy giggled. “He looked rich,” she said. “Girl, What does that have to do with anything?” “I don't know.” She shrugged. “Just saying.” Anna rolled her eyes and returned to work. She had completely forgotten about the stranger by the time she flipped the sign to CLOSED at 6:30 p.m. She had just reached for her bag when the door opened. Of course, Mr. Hamlet is back. “Good evening,” he said apologetically. “I'm sorry to bother you. I think I left my umbrella here.” Anna folded her arms. “You did.” She picked it up from beside the counter and held it out. “I wasn't sure you could hear me when I called after you.” He took the umbrella but didn't leave. “You yelled my name?” Anna blinked. “I don't know your name. So, I yelled ‘Mr. Hamlet.’” He laughed softly. “Well, my name is André. Not Mr. Hamlet.” “Good to know.” She reached for her keys. “I'm about to leave, so—” “Sorry.” He paused. “I didn't get your name.” Anna looked at him. For some reason, the question caught her off guard. “Anna.” He smiled. “That's a beautiful name.” She ignored the strange little flutter in her stomach. “Goodnight, André.” “Goodnight, Anna.” He stepped outside. The door clicked shut behind him, and Anna stared at it for a moment, before she shook her head. “Nope.” She grabbed her bag. Whatever strange charm that man thought he had, she wasn't interested. Not even a little. Her phone buzzed. Emily: Don't forget tonight. Lilac nightie. Curly hair. And don't you dare cancel on me. Anna smiled. At least one man-free evening was guaranteed. Or so she thought. --- By the time Anna arrived at Emily's apartment, the rain had softened into a cool mist. Emily opened the door wearing the exact lilac nightie Anna had recommended, her dark hair styled in voluminous curls. “Look at you!” Anna laughed. “If I'm hosting, I'm doing it in style.” Emily pulled her inside and took her coat. “I ordered pizza, wine, and all the gossip. Now tell me—how was work?” Anna collapsed onto the velvet sofa. “Exhausting.” Emily handed her a glass of wine. “And?” Anna hesitated. “I met the most arrogant man on the planet.” Emily's eyes lit up. “Oh?” “He walked into the shop looking like he stepped straight out of a fashion magazine.” “And?” “And he was a complete idiot.” Emily laughed. “You noticed he was handsome?” “I noticed nothing.” “You know his name?” Anna looked away. “...André.” Emily gasped. “You even got his name!” “Don't start.” “This is love.” Anna threw a pillow at her. Before Emily could tease her again, the doorbell rang. “They're here!” Emily sprang up to answer it. Jane and Sarah burst through the door carrying bags of takeout, donuts, and an oversized gift bag. Jane was missing one shoe. Emily stared. “Jane. What happened?” “Do not ask.” Jane kicked off her remaining heel and collapsed onto the rug. “I just survived the worst blind date in human history.” Sarah poured wine into four glasses. “The man spent twenty minutes talking about his ex-girlfriend.” “And then,” Jane continued, “he ordered an expensive steak and asked the waiter to split the bill down to the last cent.” “Even my sparkling water,” she added indignantly. Sarah shook her head. “And he got angry because she wouldn't go back to his apartment.” Anna groaned. “What is in the air today? Are all men losing their minds?” “I am officially done with men,” Jane declared. The girls burst into laughter. For the rest of the night, they ate pizza, demolished the donuts, drank wine, and watched Love Is Blind, screaming at the television every time someone ignored an obvious red flag. By midnight, the apartment had finally gone quiet. As Anna lay between her friends. She had no idea that the arrogant stranger from her bookstore had left more than an umbrella behind. And she certainly didn't know that by tomorrow morning, she would have a reason to think about him again.